


Umbrella

by ElvenSemi



Series: Inspiration [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Boners, Chess, F/M, Stripping, Wicked Grace, all of the sexual tension!, but still it's more than i've given you before, enjoy the singular boner i guess, sexual tension!, well a boner singular
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenSemi/pseuds/ElvenSemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All alone in a tent, whatever shall they do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Umbrella

A night spent in the Fade, properly in the Fade, was more refreshing than Lavellan could have imagined. It took her a moment to realize she had awoken, but a few things stood out. 

First, it was dark. Was it still night? Second, she was warm, despite the chill that was in the air earlier that day. Third, the reason she was warm is because Solas had pulled his bedroll much closer, and was, in fact, lying directly next to her. She stiffened. He would no doubt be waking up any moment, since he must have been aware that she’d left the Fade. Once he woke, he would move away. So… would it be bad to enjoy it for a few more seconds? As she began to relax back against him, she discovered she was not the only thing in the tent that was tense. Something very tense indeed was pressing into her rear. 

She froze. A rainbow of thoughts sprayed through her mind. Ridiculously, the most prevalent one was about how much clothing Solas wore, and how she could nonetheless feel a definite outline against her thigh. She didn’t exactly have a frame of reference, but just how big…? 

And then Solas was waking. She felt him stretch, his taut erection rubbing delightfully into the flesh of her buttocks. She knew there were approximately three seconds for her to enjoy this before this became the most embarrassing encounter of her life, and she was determined to make the most of it. 

Solas noticed the state of himself rather quickly, to his credit, and didn’t panic so much as subtly shift away, sitting up. Bless the man, he was probably hoping she hadn’t noticed. As if anyone could have missed it! She stayed laying for a few more seconds, wondering if she could present the illusion of sleep, but gave up in a moment and rolled over. Solas was looking at her oddly, but she pretended not to notice. She didn’t have to be embarrassed. He was the one with the erection, damnit. 

“Ena’vunin, hahren... although I suppose that’s not correct.” She sat up, glancing around the dark tent. She held up a hand, and to her delight, the fire of her magic responded, lighting up her palm. “It’s still dark, but I seem to be better.” 

“Better, but not completely well. Pace yourself, da’len.” 

_What kind of man thrusts his erection against a da’len?_ was what she wanted to say, but she resisted. The desire to embarrass Solas was not as strong as her desire not to embarrass herself. Admitting to anyone that the first time she ever felt a man had been groggy morning wood pressed against her backside would be too much for even her to handle. Instead, she merely dimmed the flame and tried to keep her eyes anywhere away from Solas’ trousers. She didn’t trust the baggy cloth to hide him well enough, and had no idea how long it took a man to do away with such a thing. Did they go away on their own? She was, admittedly, unsure, but reasoned that they must. She could ask Varric later. 

Solas was looking out the tent flap, letting in a burst of cold air. She shuddered, but resisted the urge to flare up the fire in her hand. 

“It is snowing quite hard,” Solas announced as he gazed out of the tent. 

“I’m glad you brought the tent, then,” she said. If the blast of cold was any indication, by ‘snowing quite hard’ he meant ‘there is a small blizzard outside.’ “Are we at any risk of being buried?” 

“I don’t believe so, although if it’s still snowing like this in the morning, we will need to attempt to find better shelter.” 

Lavellan nodded. She was no stranger to snow, and she could navigate in anything short of a full blown arctic storm. She was confident that Solas was similarly equipped to deal with the situation. There was no particular reason why, she couldn’t imagine him being caught off guard. 

_He’d be off guard if you mentioned him pressing into your ass not five minutes earlier,_ her mind told her. Bad mind, filthy mind! It was probably true, however. It would almost be worth the humiliation. Solas certainly flustered her enough times for her to want some sweet, sweet revenge. Well, if she wasn’t willing to cross that line, there were others she could cross instead. She reached for the bag, pulling out the change of clothes crammed into it. They were crumpled, but clean, and she’d sweated through her clothes during the night, despite the chill. The pain of Solas’ spell was now a distant memory, but her distress showed in the stinky dampness of her clothing. 

As Solas glanced out of the tent one last time, she pulled her shirt off over her head. He didn’t seem to think much of her changing as he turned back around, but he started as she began to pull off her breast band. 

Noticing that he stared instead of turning away, she grinned. “My clothes are damp, from sweat. I don’t want to catch a chill.” She tried to say it innocently, but she knew quite well her face was anything but. 

Solas looked at her, eyes narrowed. There was no doubt he was aware of what she was doing and why, but he seemed to accept her gamble and raise, pun somewhat intended, merely sitting down onto his bedroll and watching, one eyebrow quirked. It was her turn to be startled as his eyes seemed to bore into her. Why did the blasted man never react the way she intended? 

Calling her bluff, since she hesitated in actually removing her band, he said, “You should hurry and change, da’len. You’re not yet strong enough to risk becoming ill.” 

She flushed, certain the heat she was generating would keep the tent warm for quite a time to come. She’d expected him to get embarrassed, turn away. She was accustomed to nudity around members of her clan; a river was only so large, after all, but she’d certainly never stripped herself in front of such a penetrating gaze. 

Well, if she started the game, and he raised, she had only two options: fold, or raise again. And this time, Fen’Harel take them both, she was not going to fold. With a deep breath, she slid off her breast band, and found to her satisfaction that Solas’ eyes slid to stare at the tent wall. Thank the Creators one of them was still in possession of some decorum, because she feared she was all out. Her Keeper would surely die of shame if he knew what was going on in her mind. 

Her bravado spent up quickly by the act of stripping, she quickly shrugged into new clothing while Solas sat in silence. She couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants (would she always be noticing it, now that she’d had its existence thrown into her face, so to speak?). Was that still there from earlier? 

Fully clothed once again, she flopped down onto her own bedroll, the adrenaline leaving her feeling shaky. She turned towards Solas, begging her voice not to quaver. “I don’t believe I can sleep for another eight hours, hahren,” she confessed. “But sitting here in the dark does not appeal to me, either.” 

Solas cleared his throat, and she wondered if his voice might have shaken, as well. But it was iron firm when he did speak. “Thankfully, dawn is not so far off. However, I thought that the potion might wear off before we could travel, and I brought a contingency plan.” He reached into one of the pockets of the bag, one she hadn’t considered looking in, and unrolled a piece of cloth onto the floor. She couldn’t see it clearly until he lit a small lantern with veilfire and placed it nearby. 

The cloth was checkered, black and white. Solas was producing small, wooden statues. “Are you familiar with the game?” he asked, gesturing towards the board. Lavellan shook her head. “We will start with the basics then,” he said, placing a few pieces onto the cloth. “This is a pawn.” 

-

Hours passed without her realizing. She learned the terms for all of the pieces, how they moved, and the general gist of the game. Solas set up puzzles for her to solve, giving her a certain number of pieces and telling her how many moves she was allowed in order to checkmate. It was a fun little game, and she would have been content to spend all day out there, away from the strain of the Inquisition. But both of them were interrupted out of their escape when the sound on the tent switched from soft flakes to hard drops. 

Their eyes met, and then they both made for the tent door. Lavellan got there first, her body sliding against Solas as she slipped her head outside. She swore in dwarven, a new favorite pastime of hers. “It’s freezing rain! This tent will _not_ be protection enough.” The sun was beginning to rise, barely, but it was still frigid outside. She ducked back into the tent. Solas was already packing up their things into the bag, and Lavellan quickly joined him. Despite herself, she pulled on the human boots. If she would be walking through ice and snow, the extra warmth would be worth the awkward restraint offered by human shoes. Even if Varric told her she walked like a cat with gum stuck to its paws when she wore boots. 

Once their bedrolls were packed, she took a deep breath and plunged out into the rain. She winced. The droplets were stinging, but it was no hail or sleet. It was liquid, falling from the sky, freezing when it hit the ground or trees. It was the kind of weather she liked the least, because no aravel could travel across solid ice, not safely. As Solas came out, she moved to break the tent, but he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. 

“No time for that. If the tent survives, we can get it at a later time. We need to find shelter.” 

“There’s a cave, not far.” She flushed, replying to the surprise in his face. “I explore, sometimes, at night. I never liked sleeping… I’m sure you can appreciate why.” 

Solas nodded, his face grim once more. She shouldn’t have reminded him of what her Keeper had done. Truly, she would never hear the end of it. She began to move, but Solas stopped her again, still holding onto her arm. She turned, confused, and then, suddenly, the rain stopped. Bewildered, she looked up. It appeared to be raining, but stopping a foot above her head, as if she were standing under clear ice. She stared around. The rain poured off an invisible surface all around them. 

“Oh, you are absolutely showing me how to do this, hahren,” Lavellan breathed, extremely impressed. She would have not thought of such a thing. Likely it was a modified barrier. But she didn’t have time to consider that, Solas was pulling her forward, keeping her under the invisible barrier. 

They stalked through the snow together, staying close to remain under what Lavellan dubbed Solas’ “force umbrella,” based on the pretty cloth-and-wood device that Josephine sometimes carried. She’d said it was for keeping off the sun, but that seemed patently ridiculous. Apparently, in Orlais, they made other ones, for rain, and that made at least passable sense. The Orlesians wore silly clothing; Creators only knew what water would do to them. 

Their going was slow, mostly due to the deep snow and Lavellan’s shorter legs. Elves were slight of frame in general; Lavellan had been the shortest of her kin. Still, Solas kept his pace to hers and said nothing, which she appreciated. She kept a flame in her hand, both for light and to keep them warm. She was relieved when she finally spotted the entrance to the cave she once hid in, weeks earlier, when the pressure of walls and expectation threatened to overwhelm. 

It wasn’t something she liked to admit. It wasn’t as though she was leading the Inquisition. The majority of decisions were made by Leliana, Josephine, or Cullen. But somehow, she’d fallen into leading just about every away team, and had been working on cleaning up the Hinterlands for weeks before her unfortunate Templar incident. Some pressure, she was used to, but she was not used to making decisions that involved life and death. 

She ducked into the cave after Solas, relieved to be out of the rain, even if she hadn’t been directly in it. Her pants legs were soaked due to the snow, and her feet felt soggy. So much for the lousy boots. She should have known not to trust something made by humans. 

“There’s wood in here?” Solas’ voice was questioning. Lavellan flushed slightly. 

“It’s always cold in the mountains, and I did come out here at night…” 

“I’m grateful for your foresight, such that it was. We should be fine here until the rain lets up.” 

-

“They ran out of there, fast as you think, bare asses shining in the moonlight. The whole way back to their village!” 

Somehow, chess by the fire devolved into storytelling, which devolved into Lavellan resting her head on Solas’ leg while listening to him wax poetic. While Lavellan knew no tale to top Solas’ beautiful stories from the Fade, she did know a few funny ones, and pulled out her favorite tale of silly shems. It was successful; Solas was laughing. The vibration tickled through her head, making her body hum. Delightful. She wished he would smile more. She caught herself about to reach up towards his face, and wrestled herself back into control. He was no courting Dalish! What was she thinking? That he allowed her to rest her head this close to his crotch after having been naked in front of him earlier that day showed exactly what he thought of her, she was certain. She needed to get a grip. 

“Hahren, can you show me that ‘force umbrella’ trick now?” she interjected. She would only get more pent up the longer they stayed alone in this cave. Her mind was going to places it needed to stay away from. 

“Now is hardly the time for you to be practicing new magic, da’len,” Solas derided softly. 

She let out an exaggerated groan, flipping over like a child throwing a tantrum. “But I’m booooored,” she whined, grinning up at him. He gave her exactly the disapproving look her Keeper would have, and it made her laugh, her giggles echoing through the cave. 

“If you’re bored, I can think of a few things we can do to pass the time.” His voice was a low growl. 

Her laughter cut off abruptly. She flushed, staring at him incredulously. It could have been an innocent statement, if not for the look on his face, the tone of his voice! Her ears heated up as he reached into the bag. What on earth was he – 

“…Is that a… deck of cards?!” 

“I heard Varric was teaching you Wicked Grace,” he said, his face still a grin that made her think of things that were surely unbecoming of one widely known as the “Herald of Andraste.” 

In that moment, she could have struck him. _He had done that on purpose!_ There was no way that was not intended! No one could possibly be so obtuse… she hoped. To be so worked up over a poor choice of words would be… No, surely it was intentional. He was probably getting revenge for her teasing him earlier. That was like him. 

He waited patiently as she took a few deep breaths, as if there was nothing unusual about her behavior. 

“Wicked Grace it is, then,” she said, her eyes glinting. “I think I even know what we can bet.” 

-

“Ah, looks like I win again.” 

“Hahren, haven’t you ever heard that you’re supposed to go easy on someone new to the game?” 

“Don’t be silly. You won a trip to the bar.” 

“And I’m not betting it for anything,” she scowled. “Which is why I appear to owe you several full days of staff practice and meditation.” 

“We’ll spread it out. It will be good for you. You should practice at it more, rather than spending time flitting about with Cullen and his sword.” 

God damn it, she would pay to be able to turn a double entendre like that. “I believe in being a well-balanced individual,” she said dryly, not raising to the bait. “Alright, one more hand. This time, I’m going to get you to go to shopping in Val Royeux with me.” 

Solas opened his mouth to speak, but then paused, quirking one ear upwards. She soon realized why… the sound of the falling rain was gone. She almost cursed her luck as he confirmed her suspicions. The rain was done, for the time being. They could make their way back to Haven. It was just as well; their friends were probably worried. But she’d been enjoying time away from the pressures of human society in general, and the Inquisition in particular. 

They packed up, and began the trek back to Haven. When they arrived, she turned to Solas, somewhat awkwardly. 

“Hahren… Solas. I appreciate… well, everything. I enjoyed spending time with you today, and you even fixed my… sleeping problem.” Her face must have said something she did not, because Solas rested an easy hand on her shoulder. 

“I doubt we will have time for Wicked Grace again soon, but I will see you tonight,” he reassured her. At the no doubt priceless look on her face, he added, “In the Fade? I could hardly leave you to figure everything out after one night. I will have to stay close until you have the proper safeguards. It is more dangerous for a Dreamer.” 

“Oh. Yes. In the Fade. Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you again, Solas. I should probably… I should probably go see Cassandra, lest she gain any more grey hairs over me.” She toddled off, still flushed. The events of the day, from Solas’ teasing, his willingness to watch her undress, and the memory of firmness pushing against her, to the sudden revelation that she was was in possession of the complete opposite to a “poor” connection to the fade, left her more confused than she could remember being.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy sexual tension, because that's apparently all I know how to write.


End file.
